Harry Potter and the Fencing Foil
by Malpresage
Summary: A new guardian? What's going on?--Just first chapter with little happening so far.


_**A/N: I don't really do authour's notes, nor do I like seeing long ones at the top of posts. If you have an urgent question about this book, I will try and check review to respond to them, but not at the top or bottom of chapters.  
  
**_

_**Chapter One: Musings**_

It was, by what might be considered normal British standards, a beautiful, warm summer's day. Which in other words means that as opposed to normal heavy drizzle, with the occasional heavy downpour, it was only mostly overcast, with a faint occasional misting of rain.

It was hard to say if #4 Privet Drive's garden looked better when it had barely seen the sun, as was the case this year mused a certain skinny black-haired boy, or whether last years scorchingly hot sun, and drought-cause hose-ban had made it look more appealing. On the whole, he decided, the grass definitely looked better all green rather than with brown patches on it, but the flowers could definitely do with a bit more sun, seeing as how they were straggly and not a bud in sight.

This was an indication of just how bored someone can get, when cooped inside, day after day. Even a normal person, if such a peculiar phenomenon exists anywhere within the universe, would find the weather this summer, completely and unutterably dull. Harry Potter, being the boy concerned, was far and away from being this totally theoretical normal person. Possibly nearly as far as it is possible to get, for you see, he was a wizard.

Even in the wizarding world--and those who left it often found it easier to differentiate and think of them as two separate worlds--he was far from being normal, or ordinary. He was a celebrity. And had been such since he was less than two years of age, albeit completely unaware of such a thing until a few years previously.

But now, this famous boy was sitting, gazing blankly at the garden of his aunt and uncle's house. Wishing he had something, anything to do. He had an old TV in his room, which suprisingly still worked, (but Harry had switched it on, then directly off, deciding that sitting doing nothing was preferable to watching the Teletubbies) his oversized cousing Dudley having been given a new one, seeing as he had managed to get 4 GCSEs.

Nobody, and least of all Harry, could understand sure why scraping a pass in 4 GCSEs was such a big deal for his aunt and uncle, unless it was the fact that his cousin was probably around the same weight and intelligence of a small rhinocerous, so their hopes couldn't have been very high. Harry was meanwhile, anxiously awaiting a letter, for his contacts with the wizarding world had been at an all time low this summer. He had sent out a letter every 3 days, as was mandatory, but had never had any response. He understood about security precautions and all, and lack of time, but he'd got to the stage where he'd've gladly accepted a letter from his least favourite teacher back at Hogwarts, Professor Snape.

He had written of the mandatory note only that morning, but there hadn't been much of the way of information in it. "All's well, no problems, Harry" had been it in it's entirety.

In truth, all was not well. Harry seemed to be constantly trying to find something to do, or something to think about, so he could ignore what had happened the previous term. For last term, he had lost the nearest thing to a parent that he could ever recall having, His godfather, Sirius.

Harry, who had a guilt complex about the size of his cousin Dudley, in other words much too large for his rather scrawny frame, considered the whole thing his fault--and in truth could see no other way of explaining it. Harry wasn't the kind of person to look for other people to blame--which in this instance there were plenty of, instead, he preferred to take full responsibility on his own shoulders, which definitely wasn't a good thing.

He was moping. He knew it. He almost certainly wouldn't have used that terminology when describing it to someone else, but deep inside, he knew that there was no better word to use to describe it. But what else was he to do?

Then the practical side of him, which he had pointedly been trying to ignore for the past three weeks that he'd been back in Privet Drive, seemed to speak up.

_'What else is there to do? There's a war on, for crying out loud. Would Sirius want you to mope around all day, trying to distract yourself?' _The resounding answer to that question was no. Harry knew that. All too well, yet had been pointedly been trying to ignore, because of his deep grieving.

But the question remained, what would Sirius want him to do? Harry considered this, thinking long and hard, before he suddenly seemed to hear Sirius speaking to him. He knew it was his own imagination, but it sounded so thoroughly like him, that Harry was slightly startled.

_'Don't waste the life that I and your parents died for. Learn all that you can, but don't neglect having fun. The best way you can remember me, and your parents, is to live your life, defeat Voldemort, and live happily ever after.'_

He pondered these words. They seemed like excellent sense, then started as a small tawny owl flew in, dropping two letters onto his lap with a small 'twit-twoo' before flying straight out of the open window. One of the envelopes read "Mr. Harry Potter, #4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England" and was in a posh parchment envelope. Harry was about to rip it open, when he saw what was on the other envelope. "READ THIS FIRST" in what was clearly recognizable as his headmaster, Professor Dumbledore's handwriting.

Harry decided that the wisest course of action would be to open his headmaster's letter first--he still wasn't overly happy with his teacher, but still thought it best to take his advice. Inside was a small piece of parchment, which read:

"Dear Harry.

I hope you have been able to forgive, or at the very least understand what I did last year. I hope you will be able to forgive a foolish old man's mistakes. Attached is the official Gringott's invitation to the reading of Sirius' will, which I was sent your copy of, and have fowarded on to you, since they couldn't contact you directly. I thought you might appreciate me sending a note alongside of it, so it didn't come as too much of a shock to you. I and Remus Lupin will come to take you to the reading,

Yours, Professor Dumbledore."

Hmm. No surprises about what the other one contained then. Harry didn't especially want to admit it due to still being slightly upset with him, but he appreciated his headmaster sending a personal note along with it. He opened the second one, which was on a fine piece of parchment, in very crabbed handwriting--evidently Goblin.

"Dear Mister Harry Potter.

It is our regrettable duty to have to inform you that Sirius Black is officially recognized as dead, and you are hearby required to come to the hearing of the aforementioned Sirius Black's last will and testament, this Friday at 10:00 AM, promptly. Please owl us immediately in return if you are not available to come to the hearing, and let us know exactly who you will be sending in your place, and preferably some method of recognition.

Girddely and Torsalm, Gringots Senior legal team"

Ho hum. Friday was tomorrow. He'd just have to wait and see what it brought.


End file.
